


A Minor Tune-Up

by StringedVictory



Category: Girl Genius
Genre: Kink Meme, Kissing, Massage, Multi, Polyamory, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-06
Updated: 2013-10-06
Packaged: 2017-12-28 13:17:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/992437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StringedVictory/pseuds/StringedVictory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Agatha is having a rough day in the lab. Tarvek and Gil see what they can do about it. (Written for a kinkmeme.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Minor Tune-Up

Agatha puts the motor down on the bench in front of her and buries her head in her hands. “Forget it. I think it’s beyond repair.”

Across the room, from a pile of books and blueprints, Tarvek glances up. “Do you need to take a break?”

“No. I shouldn’t, anyway. We need this fixed, and we need it soon.” She turns the palm-sized cylinder over and examines it, hoping for an epiphany. 

“Agatha, are you tense?” Tarvek has put down his book, and is walking toward her.

“What makes you say that?” She doesn’t answer his question.

He kisses the back of her head. “It’s your Heterodyning. Earlier tonight, you were having trouble staying on key.”

“What?”

“I’ve been listening to the musical patterns you produce for a few weeks now. Today you’ve been running consistently sharp, and what’s more, your vibrato is widening considerably. Sounds like you’re under a fair bit of stress.”

“Tarvek, you analyze my humming?” Her expression betrays a mixture of amusement, surprise, and worn-thin frustration.

“Well, yes. I have absolute pitch and years of, ah, rather rigorous musical training at Sturmhalten.” He winces. “So I thought there might be something to be learned from paying attention to your humming. It seems that your breakthrough periods correlate with the most technically accomplished musical passages. Which are quite impressive, might I add. _Brava_.”

She chuckles. “You charmer. So what do you think it means? Apart from being fascinating, that is.”

“Well, I’m not quite sure of the causality. Today, for instance, it may be that your frustration manifests itself in the music. Or it may be that you simply can’t do your best work when your Heterodyning is hampered in some way.” He brightens, his voice growing Sparkier by the second. “We’d need to do some experimentation to really work it out, of course, perhaps assign you tasks and have you-”

She cuts him off with a peck on the cheek. “Tarvek. What should I do about it _now_?”

“I suppose I’d suggest whatever you usually do when you’ve had a long day. Bath? Hot tea? Massage? I’m personally partial to a glass of wine and some oil paints.”

“Actually, a massage sounds nice. Can you do that?”

“I’ll try. Er. Have a seat.” He selects a couch of the type favored by artists who paint their subjects reclining with bunches of grapes. Agatha sits down. “Where first?”

“Shoulders, I guess.”

“All right, then.” He removes his jacket and places it, folded, on the laboratory workbench opposite Agatha’s.

His fingers press into her aching muscles, firmly but gently. Immediately she is flooded with a sweet relief, so satisfying that she can’t help but sigh audibly. As he traces circles with his thumbs, deeper and deeper into her shoulders, she can feel weeks- months, even- of tension that she hardly knew was there, all slipping away.

“Like this?” he asks.

She nods. “That’s great. A little firmer, even.” He quickly complies, kneading her flesh with his fingertips until it nearly hurts, but the release she finds is all the deeper for it. She lets herself relax into his touch, grateful for his warm hands. 

“Agatha, I found the calipers you- oh.” In the doorway stands Gilgamesh, holding a toolbox and smirking. “Guess you’ve found someone else to do your bidding. Should I just leave these here?” 

“No, Wulfenbach, you can make yourself useful,” Tarvek replies. He’s not alone in being on Agatha’s string, and he knows it. Yet to Agatha’s relief, neither of her boys particularly seems to mind. “Come over here.”

“All right, make myself useful how?” He bends down to plant a quick kiss on Agatha’s forehead.

“Agatha is in desperate need of a bit of relaxation,” Tarvek declares. “I thought a massage would be appropriate.” To Agatha, he adds, “Anything you’d like him to take care of?”

Not daring to consider some of the more creative options, she replies, “You know, Gil, I have been standing all day. Could you rub my feet a bit?”

“If you insist.” Gil sits down on the far end of the couch, lifts Agatha’s legs into his lap, unbuckles her shoes and tugs them off. She can’t help but twitch and giggle as his fingers brush the soles of her feet.

“Agatha, you’re ticklish!” Gil grins. “The Heterodyne has a secret weakness!”

“That’s right. And I have a couple of death rays ready for anyone who misuses that information.”

“I figured as much.” He takes one foot in both his hands and begins working the muscles, teasing them with strong fingers. “How’s this?”

The combined effect of Tarvek at her shoulders and Gil at her feet has her melting. “Perfect, actually,” she tells Gil, a little breathless. As she says it, she realizes she’s speaking not only of his vigorous attention to her feet, but also of the view of him: concentrating intently, hair sticking up in that way she likes so much, his eyes and hands on her. He presses his thumbs into the ball of her foot, moving them back and forth with a gentle squeeze, before moving on to the arch. 

Tarvek, for his part, has slipped into a percussive motion, drumming the sides of his hands between her shoulder blades. The soft rhythmic thudding soothes her. At each point of contact, a hundred tiny aches rise like champagne bubbles to the surface of her awareness, only to burst and leave her with a lovely satisfied feeling.

“Don’t forget the other one,” she eventually reminds Gil, once she remembers how to speak. 

“I wouldn’t dare.” He lays down her right foot, which feels pleasantly springy and refreshed, and picks up her left for the same treatment. Again he squeezes and stretches her muscles, and she notices with some amusement that each of his hands is nearly bigger than her foot. One by one he caresses each of her toes between his fingers, with the same dreamy smile that she’s seen him wear when he tightens the last few dozen screws on a clank he’s spent ages designing. 

She tilts her head back for a moment. “Good job on the shoulders, Tarvek. Do you think you could do the rest of my back now?”

“Of course.” He slides his hands downward.

As Tarvek’s hands brush her waist, she admits to herself that his touch, not to mention Gil’s, is therapeutic in more ways than one. She simply wants to feel their strong hands on her body, and the lovely, heavy, deeply relaxed feeling that has settled over her is only a delightful side effect. And so she begins to suspect that they are more absorbed in their tasks than simple scientific curiosity demands. _Why let Tarvek have all the fun, then?_ she reasons to herself. _I ought to give Gil a chance to hold me closer._ And so she does.

“Gil, you’ve done really well with my feet. Now I think my legs need a little attention.” She shifts toward him to stretch them out over his lap, and his eyes grow wide. He looks like a child who’s just been handed a huge gingerbread trilobite, dripping with honey, and she smiles at his obvious delight. 

“What kind of attention? I mean, where do you need it most?” 

“Oh, along the calves, mostly. If you could just rub them a bit, that would be great.” 

He obliges eagerly, using both hands to encircle her leg just above the ankle. Resting one hand on her shin, he places the other beneath her strong calf muscle and rubs with the heel of his hand. As he proceeds upward, her trouser leg rides up, exposing the trilobite print on her sock, and above it a glimpse of skin. She almost reaches down to tug her hem back into place, but decides against it. Gil says nothing about it, but she watches his glance linger for a moment on the patch of bare skin before he picks up her other leg. 

Tarvek’s hands are moving farther down her spine now, leaving satisfaction in their wake. She wants to sink into the cushions, and into him, and into Gil, whose lap she’s half in already. 

It occurs to Agatha that she has before her a private buffet, an embarrassment of riches. She has shared a few private moments with each of them before, of course. The thought has even occurred to her that it might be lovely to combine her two favorite pleasures. And yet, oddly, easy though it would be to fall onto a couch or a bed, three at once, she has never thought such ideas would amount to anything more than late-night fantasies. 

Until now. Softly, shy even though she has no reason to be, she says, “You’re both just fantastic, you know that? I’m so glad I’ve got you.” 

Her words hang in the air a moment, and no one moves their hands or bodies from where they’ve ended up. Gil is the first to break the silence. “I’m, uh, really glad I’ve got you too.” Tarvek nods his assent. 

Gil continues, blushing slightly. “Was that all you wanted to say, or were you implying anything else?” 

It’s Agatha’s turn to blush. “Yes. Yes, I was definitely implying something else.” By now each boy is holding one of her hands. 

“And what might that be?” purrs Tarvek, so close she can feel his breath tickling her neck. 

Turning scarlet, she extricates herself from them and plants her feet on the floor. Almost in a whisper, she answers, “I was thinking I’d like to kiss you both. You know, together.” _Now you’ve done it, Agatha,_ she thinks. _It was too good to be true. I bet they’ll both walk out and…_

Instead, to her surprise, she finds Tarvek pressing her left hand to his lips, as Gil plants a peck on her right cheek. 

“Fine with me, Lady Heterodyne,” says Tarvek. “I don’t know about Gil, but I’m in no rush.” 

“Me neither,” adds Gil with a nervous laugh. “So, uh- your move, Agatha. Pick a loyal vassal”- he winks –“and we can get started.” 

Before second thoughts can stop her, she chooses Gil. Leaning into him, squeezing Tarvek’s hand to reassure him that he’ll get his turn, she kisses him full on the mouth. Gil closes his eyes and murmurs with pleasure against her lips. He throws an arm around her, pulling her closer, and holds her to him as she licks and nibbles. Agatha parts her lips and begins to explore with her tongue, and he responds in kind. First tentatively, then boldly, she slips her tongue into his mouth, and soon she is caught up in him, pressing herself against him, going at him like he’s water in the desert. 

To her surprise, he pulls away first. “If we’re taking turns, I think it’s probably his.” Gil jerks his head in Tarvek’s direction. 

“You think so, Tarvek?” 

“Certainly. If you don’t mind, of course,” says Tarvek, sliding an arm around Agatha’s waist. 

She laughs. “Not at all.” He cups her chin in his hand and tilts her face toward his. 

Tarvek begins to kiss her softly, at first barely brushing his lips against hers. He meanders around her face, now kissing her cheek, now her forehead, now the tip of her nose, before returning to her mouth. She snuggles into his arms, stroking his jaw and matching him peck for peck, but there’s a glint in his eye that suggests his delicate attentions are just the opening move of a chess game. Which means it’s her move now. 

Agatha kneels on the couch next to Tarvek and draws herself up so that her face is poised above his. He stares at her, entranced, and she holds his gaze for a moment before bending down. She takes his pince-nez firmly in her teeth and slips them off his face with a gentle tug. As she sits back down at his side, she places them in her cleavage. 

“Oh my,” Tarvek murmurs, once he’s torn his eyes away from where his spectacles ended up. He reaches for her again, kissing her more deeply this time. She takes his lower lip between hers and sucks on it, long enough and firm enough to make him moan low in his throat. And then, abruptly, she turns back to Gil. 

“Agatha, give those back!” Tarvek protests, a note of amusement in his voice despite his best efforts to sound cross. 

“You’re welcome to come get them.” She’s already clambering up onto Gil’s lap. This time he sinks backward against the thick plush arm of the sofa, letting her fall on top of him. She runs her hand through his hair. “Now where were we, Gil?” 

He smiles. “Right around here, I think.” He looks up into her eyes and meets her halfway for another kiss. 

“Do what you like, Lady Heterodyne, but I will be needing my glasses.” Tarvek, slightly cross-eyed, is casting his hand around to retrieve them. He misses on the first grab and ends up with a handful of Agatha’s bosom. Gil cackles. Agatha squeals with a mixture of surprise and delight. 

“Sorry, but” –Gil grabs the pince-nez and places them on his own nose– “ _I’m_ Prince Tarvek, and I shall require my spectacles so I can count the threads in my handkerchief.” Agatha tries to stifle her laughter. 

“I do _not_ talk like that!” 

Gil ignores the retort and squints at Agatha. “Wow, Tarvek, how can you see anything?” 

“With those, you oaf. Now give them back.” 

“Maybe I will, maybe I won’t.” Gil holds them far over the edge of the couch. 

“Now, now, boys. It’s the Heterodyne’s job to keep her vassals from squabbling.” Agatha plucks the glasses from Gil’s grasp and returns them to their rightful place on Tarvek’s nose. He gives her a kiss on the hand for her trouble, and then attempts to retreat with her to his side of the couch. 

“Hey, wait!” Gil is clutching Agatha’s arm. “It’s still my turn, isn’t it, Agatha?” He makes a mock-pitiful face at her. 

Tarvek is grinning. “You heard the lady. No squabbling.” 

“Oh, listen to you two. If you can’t learn to take turns, you’re going to have to learn to share.” 

That shuts them up. She tumbles down between them and finds herself sprawled across both of their laps, not unlike before except that now her feet are at Tarvek’s end. She stops keeping score of kisses given and received, and what with both of them crowded in close to her, she figures they’ll wind up even anyway. Once or twice Gil and Tarvek bump noses as they both lean in toward her, and for some reason it makes her smile. 

It’s a long time before they get up. 

Agatha stands once again at her bench, Heterodyning away. The little motor has been stripped down to half its weight and has more than doubled its efficiency, whirring along with her humming. 

Tarvek strikes a tuning fork and holds it up for Gil to hear. “She’s right on key, as I expected. A successful trial, I should say.” 

“From now on, I hope she asks us for help every time she needs a breakthrough.” He nudges Tarvek in the ribs. 

“Wouldn’t that be nice?” murmurs Tarvek. _Us_ , he thinks. _He did say us._

Gil smirks. “You know, Sturmvoraus, you’re not so bad for a big sneaky weasel.” 

“And you’re not so bad for a libertine hellion.” 

They stand together in silence, watching their favorite Heterodyne at work. She’s fully engrossed now, and would hardly notice if they lit off rockets. Yet beneath the machinations of the Spark, she knows they are there, both of them, and she wouldn’t have it any other way. 

**Author's Note:**

> The (anonymous) [prompt](http://girlgeniuskinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/492.html?thread=25836#cmt25836) was as follows:  
> " ~~I LIKE FLUFF AND I AM NOT ASHAMED.~~
> 
> Hear me out: I want really sensory, description-heavy, involved fic. Of kissing. And snuggling. Not as foreplay, just... kissing and touching and cuddling and spooning and being close and stuff for its own sake.
> 
> Agatha/either or both Gil or Tarvek, please."


End file.
